


Costume Dad

by Amuly



Category: Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-22 23:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4855295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Monroe never really thought he'd be a suburban house-dad, much less the costume dad for all the school plays. But life sometimes worked out like that, and Jack was pretty okay with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Costume Dad

There’d been whispers at first. Sometimes it was just his and Dennis’ names said in conjunction with each other, like that was condemnation enough. Sometimes it was less kind words, sounding all the more ugly spilling from those pink and perky Stepford lips. Bucky hadn’t ever seemed to hear or notice, but Jack did. Dennis did too, though he responded with more affable hospitality than Jack would ever manage.

It was Dennis’ very social graces that had first cracked through the suburban veneer and established their odd little family’s place in the community. PTA bake sales always went better when Dennis showed up with hundreds of Sesame Street themed cupcakes, a cheery smile, and a garish apron. Girl Scout trips were ten times more of a hit thanks to Dennis’ spooky (but not TOO spooky) gift for story telling and campfire cookery lessons. Libraries were renovated thanks to Dennis’ (re-inherited) family fortune, and Dennis was the guest of honor, reading his favorite picture books to the little ones at the grand re-opening.

Jack, unsurprisingly, had found it more difficult to carve out a niche in this almost twilight zone-esque version of the American Dream. He knew Orlando was a good place for Bucky: there were some good schools, low crime rate in the suburbs, the weather was always nice, and Florida had plenty of state universities within easy driving distance. He was doing the right thing, settling down here. He just couldn’t help feeling that itch between his shoulders every day he parked in his driveway and walked up to his front step. Palm trees, all the same age, lined the street of one-story Florida homes. They had a damned honest to goodness fence, though it wasn’t white–-white paint turned green fast in this swampland. Still, the sentiment was there.

Jack grumbled as he poked himself with a pin that was meant for his wrist pincushion. “Hang on, Ashley,” he commanded. “Hold. Here.”

Obediently the black girl reached down and pinched the material Jack indicated between two fingers. He turned his attention full to his wrist, replacing the pin safely before reaching for his needle and thread.

Jack had been close to cutting and running more times than he’d care to admit. Not abandoning Bucky, but… something. Getting away from all that suburbia, somehow. Even just for a time. Watching Dennis take to it like a duck to water hadn’t made it worse, exactly (better that one of them be on speaking terms with Bucky’s teachers than none of them) but it hadn’t made it easier, either.

And then the mom that usually did the costumes for the school play ended up on bedrest for her third trimester, and suddenly there was a desperate call out for parents who could sew three dozen child sized costumes.

Dennis had come home to tell Jack with a look of excited wonder at their good luck. Jack was more wondering about whether or not he remembered how to work with anything besides spandex.

Stitching up the side seam of Ashley’s costume–-she’d already started to outgrow it, these kids grew like weeds-–Jack sat back on his haunches with a grunt and looked at it. He nodded once in satisfaction.

“All set. Get along.”

But Ashley didn’t scoot as fast as Jack had been hoping. After examining the seam herself, the little girl hung her head, plastic beads in her hair clacking sadly against each other. “I’m sorry I got too fat,” she mumbled.

Jack sniffed to himself. Fucking parents. Roughly he patted at her shoulder. “Just getting bigger. You’re not fat. You’re a kid. Kids grow.”

Ashley glanced up at Jack, not quite believing him. “But the other kids-”

“Are jackasses. You’re fine.” Ashely giggled and Jack rubbed the back of his head. “Er. Don’t swear. That’s a bad word.”

“Thanks, Bucky’s dad!” Ashley bounded off to join her friends, mermaid costume bouncing along with her braids.

Jack shook his head. Kids were a resilient bunch. Bottle that up and sell it: it’d put any super soldier serum to shame.

Glancing around, Jack spotted one more kid waiting for him. He gestured the boy over. Bobby or Robby-–he remembered Bucky explaining how he changed his name recently, but Jack couldn’t remember which way it went. Dennis would know.

“C'mere. What’ve we got?”

BobbyRobby stepped forward shyly, head hung low. He stuck his left arm out to Jack. “Shoulder ripped. I fell. I’m sorry.”

Jack shook his head and took a look at the tear. Along the seam. He hummed to himself-–odd place for a fall to tear it. “It’s fine. Hand it over. Easy fix.”

BobbyRobby slipped out of the Napoleonic jacket (no, Jack had no idea what kind of a play he was making these costumes for) slowly, movements stiff. Jack watched him with hooded eyes. Signs looked familiar. Just wondered exactly which it was.

When BobbyRobby handed over his coat, Jack chanced a look at his arm. Left arm, bruises up and down it. Bruises about the size of an adult’s fingers. Jack grunted low to himself as he got to work stitching up the shoulder seam.

“You, uh. Excited for the play?” Jack tried.

“Nervous. I don’t wanna mess up.”

Jack shrugged. “It’s okay. Just a school play. Messing up’s not the end of the world.”

“But Mom’s filming and I want to be good.” BobbyRobby started to rub at his arm, before he winced and dropped his hand. Jack grimaced. “Dad says tapes are expensive.”

 _Not that expensive_ , Jack thought to himself. Not enough to put the fear of failure in this kid. Or put those bruises on his arm. “Hey, what’s your last name? Bucky, uh. Her birthday is coming up. Need to make sure I invite all her friends.”

“Belmont. Robby Belmont.” Robby glanced up at Jack, something like a glimmer of excitement actually breaking through his sad quiet. “Bucky’s parties are really cool. I remember her obstacle course.”

Jack snorted. “Obstacle course,” AKA his and Dennis’ gym, cleaned up and padded a little extra for the kids to go wild in.

Tying off the thread, Jack snipped it quick and tucked his needle back in the spool. He held the coat out to Robby, shaking his hair from his eyes as he looked at the kid good. “Well, you’re invited. Just don’t tell anyone yet. Still need to make the cards.” Dennis would be making those.

Robby smiled genuinely as he slipped his costume back on. “Thanks, Mr. Bucky’s Dad!” Jack watched the kid hurry away. Hm.

Jack slipped into the seat Dennis saved for him, front row. Before Dennis could do more then lean in his direction, Jack reached over the camera and jabbed at the “pause” button.

“Robby’s got bruises up and down his left arm.” Jack spoke directly into Dennis’ ear, voice so low he himself could barely hear it.

They exchanged a look as the lights dimmed. “Then report it,” Dennis told him, reaching for the “record” button.

Jack grabbed his wrist and held it. “CPS isn’t going to do-”

“Their job? You don’t know that without trying.” Dennis shot Jack a sympathetic look, but still shook off his hand. “There’s laws for this, Jack. Systems. Report it.” He pressed the “record” button as the curtain rose. Jack settled back in his seat, not even close to convinced. CPS wouldn’t do shit. But Dennis was right: that’s the way civilians did things.

Jack wished the word “civilian” didn’t sound so bitter inside his own head.

Bucky tripped over a student-tree, whacked her eagle wings into a unicorn, and replaced the lyrics to half the songs with misremembered Les Mis lyrics. She was half a step behind on all the choreography and at one point started waving to someone who was off stage right. In the end, Dennis and Jack stood up and cheered loudly for her, competing with the other parents for loudest applause. Bucky came bounding off the stage, clocking whoever was in her way with her wing span.

“I was amazing!” Bucky declared as she bounded into Jack’s arms.

Jack pressed a kiss to her hair and held her tight, eyes closed as he allowed himself this slice of happiness. This, this was worth all the Stepford creepiness and unkind words and nightly itch between his shoulder blades. This moment, this little girl right here.

“You were perfect,” Jack confirmed. He pulled back and shook his arms. “Let us see the dance again.”

Bucky giggled and spun around, flapping her wings so viciously a few errant feathers slipped from their glue. Dennis held the camera to his eye and filmed the whole thing. Bucky curtsied elaborately to the camera, grinning through a mouth spotty with teeth.

As Dennis lowered his VHS camera he told them: “you know, I think a performance like that deserve a special treat.”

Bucky’s eyes went wide, deep browns twinkling impossibly warm. “Dairy Queen,” she squeaked in awe.

It really wasn’t healthy, how much Dennis indulged Bucky’s sweet tooth. Jack would be damned if he ever denied the kid anything, though. He ruffled her carefully-curled stage hair. “Dairy Queen,” he confirmed. “Come on, your backpack’s backstage. We’ll get you out of those wings.”

“I wanna wear them to school tomorrow,” Bucky declared as she started backstage with Jack. Dennis blew them a kiss as he headed for the car.

“I don’t know if you can sit at your school desk in them,” Jack cautioned.

“I can do it,” Bucky declared, and that was probably the end of that.

As Jack held Bucky’s wings up to help her across the curtain, he heard a commotion from somewhere further backstage.

“-not even worth the wasted tape. Your mom taped over my Dolphin’s game for that, you know. Worthless piece of-”

A smack. Jack’s blood went very, very still inside his veins. “Bucky: shield.” He said their code word without thinking it. Bucky dropped her wings and scurried away in one smooth movement, heading for Dennis without a single glance back.

“Excuse me,” Jack called out. His blood pressure felt low. His breathing slow. He wiped dry palms on his jeans.

“Who’s there?”

The fear in the man’s voice, the dark of backstage, the lack of visibility of his target or himself sent Jack back. For a moment it was like he was in Miami again, or LA. Crooks always sounded the same. Bad guys always got scared when they heard Jack coming for them. The ones that had two brain cells left to rub together, at least.

But this wasn’t Miami or LA. Bucky wasn’t strapped to his back. They weren’t alone.

Jack stepped out of the shadows and faced Mr. Belmont. Robby was cowering behind him. “Mr. Belmont. I’m Jack Monroe. Have you heard of me?”

Jack was never entirely sure which parents knew what. He hadn’t bothered to change his name, nor were any of his records from his superheroing day expunged. If one parent knew, they probably all knew _something_. Mr. Belmont looked like he knew something.

“Yeah.”

Jack nodded at Robby. “Hey, Robby. You did a really good job tonight.” He looked back at Mr. Belmont, though he kept speaking to Robby: “Tell your mom if she wants a tape to ask Bucky’s other dad during the next PTA meeting. He recorded the whole thing, and we can make copies.”

Mr. Belmont didn’t say anything. Jack glanced back at Robby, waiting for an answer. After a fearful moment Robby managed to force out: “Yes, sir.”

Jack kept looking at Mr. Belmont. Looked him square in the eye, not crowding him too much, but not leaving him enough space for a graceful exit. After a long moment Jack said: “Robby’s a friend of my daughter’s, Mr. Belmont. And if you heard of me, you probably know my type take care of our own. You heard something like this?”

A long silence. Jack thought maybe the guy was actually going to tough it out, say nothing. But after a minute he cracked, same as all those weak and scared men always did. “Yes. I have.”

Jack nodded, watching him for one more extended moment. Then he looked down at Robby and smiled (as best he could manage. It helped if he told himself this was a friend of Bucky’s). “I’ll see you at Bucky’s party next month, okay?”

Robby nodded quietly. Then another fearful: “Yes, sir.”

Jack was characteristically quiet as he sat on the odd rubber and metal mesh tables outside the Dairy Queen and ate his ice cream with his… family. Bucky was characteristically effusive, reciting every line she had in the play to great dramatic effect. She had changed into a red and blue romper with robots stitched into it. She was into robots now. Dennis was repainting her room next weekend with robots (the third such repainting this school year).

In a miraculous lull in conversation-–only brought on because Bucky’s ice cream had started to melt over hand and reminded her to eat it–-Jack cleared his throat and glanced not at Dennis.

“I’m going to make that call. CPS.” He took a bite out of the chocolate shell around his ice cream. “But if they prove ineffectual…”

Dennis leaned over and pressed a kiss to Jack’s temple, one hand squeezing his neck in a rough, affectionate massage. Dennis didn’t even seem to notice the dirty looks the other Dairy Queen patrons shot them.

“And if that ends up being the case, then I’ll suit up right with you,” Dennis promised him.

Jack tried for a smile, but think it only came out as a grimace. Dennis probably got it, at least. Dennis was good like that.

Chest a little lighter, Jack turned to Bucky with something approaching an actual smile. “You know, your birthday is next month-” he started.

“ROBOTS VERSUS ALIENS,” Bucky screeched. Dennis winced and Jack huffed out a laugh.

“We’ll start work on the training simulator this weekend,” Dennis promised her. “Laser tag, do you think?”

“With _real_ lasers?”

Dennis shrugged. “Well, sure. They will really be lasers.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “You know what I mean. Burning lasers.”

Jack breathed and sat back in his chair, watching Dennis carefully negotiate the terms of her birthday party with their daughter. He breathed again, and nodded. Alright. Alright.


End file.
